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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046334">Out of the Blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts'>noodlecatposts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ACOTAR Tumblr Requests [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/M, Nudes, Texting, mild NSFW</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:21:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys receives a surprising text while in a meeting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Feyre Archeron &amp; Morrigan, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Morrigan &amp; Rhysand (ACoTaR)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>ACOTAR Tumblr Requests [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Out of the Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rhys is in a meeting when his phone chimes.</p><p>He’s currently pretending to be a dick, which is far harder than it seems; Mor is the good cop in the scenario, smiling and laughing at the jokes the people trying to get a piece of their business are making. Rhys doesn’t like them at all, just being in their presence makes him feel dirty and in need of a shower, but that just makes it easier to play his part.</p><p>“What do you think your business could bring to our company?” Mor asks with a kind smile; she blinks once and tilts her head to the side. The man in charge walks right into her trap. The man directs all of his attention to Rhys, the man, and, therefore, the one in charge.</p><p>What a sexist idiot.</p><p>“We believe that…” Rhys doesn’t know what the man tells him; instead, he decides to pick up his phone and check the texts that came in earlier. He’s hoping its Feyre; he misses the shit out of her. The trip is two weeks long, and in Rhys’s opinion, that’s fourteen days too long.</p><p>He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opens the messaging app, and his heart stops in its tracks. A picture stares back up at him of a pair of round, pert breasts dressed in nothing more than scraps of see-through blue lace. Rhys is intimately familiar with the freckles dusting those breasts, the way they feel under his fingertips. The way they taste.</p><p>Rhys’s mind reels with the realization: Feyre’s sent him a picture of herself… in lingerie.</p><p>His thumbs hover over the keyboard, trying to puzzle out what to say in response. Rhys is delighted by this development in their relationship, but his mind is unable to focus, too caught up in thoughts of what he’d like to do with those scantily clad boobs.</p><p>“What do you think, Rhysand?” His cousin’s voice snaps him back to the meeting happening in front of him, and Rhys realizes that <em>holy shit he’s still at work.</em> Mor’s eyes twinkle with knowing; she’s seen right through him. Mor knows exactly what always manages to distract him. Feyre. Rhys would bet good money that his cousin has no idea the method in which Feyre’s succeeded this time.</p><p>“I, for one, am more interested in hearing about what kind of renewable energy sources the company has,” Mor manages to lead her cousin without it being too obvious. The men watch Rhys for his response, less than concerned with the sole woman in the room.</p><p>If only these idiots knew that women pretty much ran his company; Rhys and his brothers were merely along for the ride.</p><p>“Yes, I’m a firm believer that renewable energy is the future,” Rhys echos, but his mind remains on the picture in his pocket. He hasn’t seen that bra before, but Rhys does like the color of it. Feyre always looks to die for in blue. Rhys wonders what the scratch of the lace would feel like under his fingers. That he hasn’t seen if before means it’s new, and Rhys’s mind runs wild with that line of thought. Feyre going to a lingerie store, trying on different lacy things, and picking out one to send a picture of to him…</p><p>“What do you gentlemen think?” It’s the first thing he’s said to the men during the meeting, and it’s a purposeful blow to the enemy sitting across the table. Their company is more interested in fossil fuels, of course. Rhys knows this, wants to make them uncomfortable. To have the money to fix the world’s problems and blatantly ignore them.</p><p>The men splutter because they don’t have anything. That’s okay, though; Mor and Amren set up several meetings out here. Each allowing the family time to dig up dirt on the opposition, and maybe even make a few friends. Rhys is too afraid to get his hopes up.</p><p>“I guess, that’s all then,” Mor brings the meeting to an end.</p><p>Again, the bastards ignore her, even though Mor has run the entire meeting. Their eyes fall to Rhys. He gets up and leaves the room without addressing them, without shaking hands or offering to schedule a follow-up meeting. Rhys has seen enough.</p><p>As soon as he’s alone, Rhys whips his cellphone back out. His fingers tremble with anticipation as he opens the messages, glancing over his shoulder in a way that would only arouse suspicion. Feyre’s glorious body waits for him.</p><p>But there’s another text now. Before, she’d sent the picture without preface. The image spoke enough for itself.</p><p><b>Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,</b>Feyre says, backtracking on what must have been a heavily thought out decision. Rhys’s girlfriend doesn’t do this sort of thing impulsively. <b>It’s weird, I know. Just forget about it.</b></p><p><b>Darling, as if I could ever, </b>Rhys responds immediately. <b>In fact, it was a delightful surprise. Certainly livened up my boring meeting.</b></p><p><b>OMG. </b>The texts arrive in quick succession. <b>Did someone see it? </b>Another text. <b>Fuck, I’m an idiot. </b>Rhys laughs softly, imagining the babbling panic Feyre must be in. <b>I forget. Different times zones. Fuck. Shit. Shit.</b></p><p><b>No one saw.</b>Rhys ends her humiliation quickly. <b>But the oil guys that want to turn my land into a drilling site almost saw a bit too much for my tastes. You know how I hate to share.</b></p><p>There’s a delayed pause. Rhys hears Mor calling his name, trying to figure out where in the office building he’s snuck off to. He’s hiding around a corner, like a child about to be caught stealing snacks.</p><p><b>Evil monsters.</b> Then a text to make his heart race: <b>Lucky evil monsters, though.</b></p><p>Rhys hesitates all of a heartbeat before asking, <b>Would you like a visual of what that picture did for me?</b></p><p>The ellipses appear and disappear a few times, and it makes Rhys more insecure than he cares to admit. Mor’s voice draws nearer.</p><p>
  <b>Yes.</b>
</p><p>The one word has Rhys’s heart racing and his blood heating. He needs to get back to his hotel room. As soon as possible. <b>As you wish, darling.</b></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Btw, I'm also on Tumblr via the same name (@noodlecatposts). I accept requests and such there, and I often share peeks at upcoming updates for different fics. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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